DISCLAIMER: I don't own Guiding Light. Because if I did, you can bet that Jonathan wouldn't be cheating on Lizzie.
Summary: Lizzie thoughts after she finds Jonathan and Tammy going at each other on her honeymoon. First person, one shot.
A/N: I know that a lot of people love Jammy on fanfic, but I don't. And I think that cheating is horrible, especially when there is a child involved. And I know that the writer's are going to mess up Lizzie's reaction. So this is what I think should happen. Love it or hate it, please review. Thanks.
Searing, blinding, thickening, dark red rage.
Not betrayal. Or sadness.
Fists clenching and unclenching. Chest heaving. Brow furrowed. Rage.
I watched, silently, fuming, as my husband tore the clothes of that slut. That slut I once thought of as a friend. That slut that I thought I would return to being friends with after she got over the fact that she lost her love. That slut that I was near to ready to kill.
Gory images of bloodied fingertips and slips of porcelain flesh took hold on my mind. Buried their way in, settled down, drove minivans and joined that PTA. All within seconds.
The love that I felt was gone, replaced by bitter hatred. The "good girl" thoughts I had once had poured out, letting the suppressed thrive into power once more. 'Destroy', my mind thought and there was nothing I could do to stop it. There was no serenity, just the calm before the storm. Hell hath no fury, after all.
I resisted the urge to scream. They would notice, but that wasn't the reason. Sarah. The beautiful baby that someone up there thought I was good enough to be the mother of. I love Sarah, dearly and deeply. Even in my rage, when I glanced over to the sleeping form, my only thought was how precious she was. How small and soft and delicate. Like every glass figurine my father had ever given me. I cherished every statute. And I cherish my little girl.
I smiled as I watched Sarah's chest rise and fall and slid into rhythm. I soon realized that the rhythm wasn't Sarah. Muffled clomps on the side of the beach house. All at once my momentary peace fell away and I menacingly turned my head towards the sound.
Suddenly, as if my respite from my anger gave me clarity, I realized what the most hurtful, vindictive, hateful thing to do to my husband and his slut was.
I would pretend I don't know.
I would stay with him, "ignorant" of his transgressions.
I would praise his loyalty to his family.
I would admire the way he stayed with Sarah and I.
I would cry about not having my father with me and how badly it hurt.
And Jonathan will stay with me.
Maybe not forever, but long enough.
He and his slut will have to suffer, sneaking around, loving one another in the dark.
While I get him in the light.
And by the time they are reunited, Tammy will only be his slut. The woman he ran after to "get a little", then ran back to his family. Her brazen, forthright, holier-than-thou attitude crushed under her title as Mistress.
I know it's not the same. He doesn't love me but neither does anyone else. I'd dealt with that horrible truth long ago and have, somewhat, gotten passed the cold loneliness that follows me.
Picking myself up, I walked towards the carrier and gently lifted a sleeping Sarah up. Slowly, as not to disturb her, I crept up the stairs to a small bedroom with an ocean view.
I wasn't happy. I am a Spaulding, after all. In truth, the real hitch in being a Spaulding isn't the complete lack of morals. People tend to deal with their own corruption when it involves power. The Coopers, The Lewises, The Bauers, and anyone else we've ever encountered didn't want to be a Spaulding for one reason and one reason only.
A Spaulding life, while glorious and filled with money and power, is marked by one tragedy after another, until we die.
But, lying in the bed with Sarah at my side and a pillow at the other side of Sarah, I, Lizzie Spaulding, was finally at peace.